


Coming Home

by thecookiemomma



Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode: s06e02 Agent Afloat, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is returning from his position as Agent Afloat. He is extremely uncertain of his reception at the Navy  Yard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm noticing there are certain episodes that almost NEED a tag, or a fix or something. And, eventually, most fic writers get around to 'their version of' those episodes. "Agent Afloat" is one of those. So, this is my (albeit SLASHY) take on Tony coming back from the Seahawk.
> 
> Unbetaed, and I do not own NCIS or its characters. I just play with them for fun. (definitely not for profit.)

Tony sat back in the seat, unable to contain his nervous energy. It wasn't all peaches and cream. He thought it might be, but here he was, sitting aboard this plane, almost there... and the reality was starting to hit him in the face. He'd had this idealized picture of the way it would be: Tim would acknowledge how hard the Senior Agent job had been, Ziva would apologize for doubting him. And Gibbs? Gibbs would say _something_ about being good at his job, or welcome home or, hell, even, “Hey Tony, good flight?” That'd be plenty from the Boss.

His heart ached, because he knew it wouldn't be that way. He wasn't sure anyone would even meet him. This was supposed to be where he belonged. In the MCRT. In the bullpen, surrounded by his team. There was another layer of wish, but it was one he knew would never come true, so he kept it buried deep beneath the easy stuff. Once the easy stuff was back where it belonged, he'd worry about this deeper mess.

The sailor sitting beside him threw him an intrigued look, and tilted his head asking wordlessly if Tony was okay. Tony could only shrug and attempt to settle down. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the exhaustion take him until the plane landed.

 

* * *

 

He stepped up to the old brick building, straightening his jacket and tie, checking his hair and teeth in the reflection of the glass door, then exhaled sharply as he stepped inside. It had been a long night. He'd been right.

No one had met the plane, and he called a cab, waiting impatiently to catch a ride back to his dark apartment. He'd kept the thing, and luckily hadn't had to deal with too much in the way of old food or utility wrangling, because he'd taken care of most of that. The first before he left, and the second as soon as he knew he was coming home. _Home. Right._ He'd had to call for a pizza and then fall asleep on a bare bed, still wearing his traveling clothes. Luckily, all his luggage had made it. That was one of the bonuses of riding on a Navy plane. They _never_ lost your luggage.

Now it was time for him to face the music. Whatever music that would be. He readied himself for anything from, “I still blame you for Jenny's death” to “Welcome home, prodigal son” to anything in between. He hoped it was more of the latter and less of the former, but he couldn't assume. Besides, if they did think that way, he couldn't think any less of them. That'd be hypocritical to the extreme.

Jim was still standing here, guarding the entrance. He, at the very least, was glad to see him. “Tony!” He crowed happily, holding out a hand to shake heartily. “Scuttlebutt said you were headed back, but you know scuttlebutt. Can't trust it for shit.” He pulled the unsuspecting agent into a quick, manly hug.

“Yeah, well, they had to bring me home sometime. I was corrupting the innocent, or something.” The joke fell flat as the relief at his welcome and the nervousness of the reception ahead of him warred within him, stealing all his energy. Besides. Jet lag. “Thanks, Jim. Appreciate it.” He grinned, unaware that it didn't reach completely to his eyes, and pulled back. “But if I'm late this morning, the Boss'll have my ass, and you know that's a hell of a way to return.”

“Ain't it the truth. He's been on coffee runs twice already, so I think you're alright.” It was an old system. A caffeinated Gibbs was a happy Gibbs. Well, relatively happy Gibbs. And Tony would settle for relatively happy. He nodded, allowing his relief to show, and went through the detectors.

Striding to the elevator, he inhaled, holding the breath as he stepped in. This was it. The big moment. He could probably predict Abby's response, and probably Ducky's _maybe_ Tim's, but the other two were wild cards. _Shit._ He exhaled the held breath slowly. Ziva and Gibbs could make or break this thing for him. If they were less than thrilled to see him, he would go straight up to Vance, and find some other place to serve. Not a ship, because he was done with that. But somewhere. Maybe somewhere like Rota.

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice that the elevator had dinged open. He plucked up his courage, stepped across the threshold, and was immediately attacked.

“Tonyyyyyy!!!” That loud shriek sounded so much like home that Tony grinned widely, squeezing his 'attacker' back. “I'm so glad you're back. We kept bugging Vance to bring you home, but he said …”

“Let him breathe, Abby.” Tim's voice sounded amused. “Hey, Tony.” When Abby had extricated herself from him, Tim offered his hand. Tony took it, shook it, and pulled him in for a short hug.

“Tim. Good to see you, Probie. Everything okay?” He knew it was lame, but it was what came out. It could've been worse, he supposed.

“Yeah, it's alright.” Equally as lame, but appropriate.

“Tony.” And there was Ziva. He looked up at her, gauging her response. “Did you have a good flight back?” Her eyes flashed with the same mischievousness that he remembered.

“Yes, Zee-vah. I had a wonderful flight. And I was thinking, you know, there are some serious drawbacks to catching a COD flight, but one big plus is that they never misplace your luggage.” He grinned his silly smile, and she snorted.

“You have not changed, my hairy-butt.” Tony snorted as Ziva yanked once on his tie, and stepped back again.

“Wouldn't want you not to recognize me.” Tony began to relax, and then the inevitable happened.

“That'd never happen. DiNozzo, with me. The rest of you, back to work. We can continue playing grab-ass later.” Gibbs barked, stepping through the crowd to move into the elevator Tony had just vacated.

“On your six, Boss.” Tony's reply was nearly drowned out by the other responses.

“Yes, Boss.” Tim headed quickly to his seat.

“On it, Gibbs.” Ziva replied, striding a little less quickly.

“Aye, Aye, Bossman.” That was Abby.

Tony gulped and stepped into the elevator. This was it. Showtime.

The door shut behind them. Predictably, after selecting the basement, Gibbs flipped the switch, and turned to look at his Senior Field Agent with an inscrutable expression.

“Boss, I ...” Tony began, completely unsure of what he's going to say. He hasn't been this wrong-footed in a long time.

“Quiet, DiNozzo.” Tony frowned. Now, he felt wrong-footed _and_ confused. Bad combination. That's usually when the stupidity started falling out of his mouth.

“Yes, Boss, thank you Boss.” Tony couldn't go wrong with a standard reply. Tony held his silence for several minutes while he waited for whatever his boss wanted to say. He opened his mouth to say something, to spur him on, but Gibbs beat him to it.

“Missed ya, Tony.” Um, what? Firstly, the man called him by his first name, which, when not in a hospital bed was rarer than a good movie after 1988. Then, and this was the real kicker: Gibbs missed him.

“Um, missed you too, Boss.” Tony replied, because it's true. In about a zillion more ways than Gibbs meant, he's sure.

“No, Tony. _Really_ missed ya. Figured a few things out while you were gone.” Gibbs leaned back against the wall of the elevator, looking toward the door, seeming to ignore Tony. Tony looked his way, and then faced out toward the doors himself, mirroring his posture.

“Yeah, Boss?” Tony frowned. “Like what?”

“Like how much I missed ya, and _how_ I missed ya.”

Tony gulped, afraid of saying anything to destroy the moment. But he felt the onus was on him. “How did you miss me, Boss? And how much?”

“Missed ya like an arm, Tony. Like not havin' my gun in my holster when I left the house.” Tony blinked. He remembered one day early in his tenure when Gibbs had forgotten his gun in his car one morning. He looked lost, pissed and vulnerable all at once, and it really messed with Tony's mind.

“Really?” Tony turned his body now, angled himself to face the man beside him. “You missed me like your sidearm?” Tony was pretty sure Gibbs knew he remembered that day, too. He'd made comments off and on through the years about it, as sort of a running joke between them. Never around the kids, though. Just between the two of them.

“Really. Yeah. Missed havin' you on the job, but ...” Tony could tell this was hard for Gibbs to say, so he turned back to face the door. “Missed havin' you around even off the job. Don't know how to say it, Tony. Found a few things out about myself... well, that I thought weren't true anymore.”

Tony could relate to that. There were several things he'd thought he'd put behind him, as well. Probably not the _same_ things, though. He ran a hand through his hair. “Boss, tell me I'm not misconstruing what you're saying. Because, it sounds to me like you want me in your life in more ways than just as your Senior Agent, and not in a platonic way, either. If I'm totally off base, feel free to headslap me, because that's what I'm hearing from you here.” He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to _calm the fuck down._

Gibbs just chuckled, and turned to look at him, his blue eyes echoing the laughter. It was an extremely sexy look for the man, and Tony gulped again, this time for an entirely different reason. “Always knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

In other words, 'yeah, basically, that's what I meant.' _Ho-ly shit._ Tony shook his head, pinched his own arm to prove he wasn't still aboard the plane dreaming all of this, and then, emboldened by that look in his boss' eyes and the laughter falling from his lips, leaned in, pressing his lips to Gibbs'.

Immediately, Gibbs took control of the kiss, as Tony knew he would. He deepened it, licking softly at Tony's lips until he opened them, then sliding his tongue inside. He swept his tongue around in his mouth a few times as though finding the lay of the land, then drew it back in, pulling the kiss back to a slower rhythm. Now, Tony knew he was trying to reassure him, instead of arouse him. He'd already done _that._

Reluctantly, they pulled apart, and Gibbs rested his forehead against Tony's. “Want ya in my life, Tony. In my life, in my bed, in my house … the works.” He smiled that half-smile that drove Tony wild. “You game?”

“For you, Boss, always.” Tony grinned. “We can work out the details later over beer and steaks, if you want. But we probably should vacate the elevator soon, or they'll call the repair company.”

Gibbs laughed outright. “One thing, Tony: call me 'Jethro'. I don't mind if you call me Boss, especially when we're tryin' to figure out how we're gonna handle this, but I'd really like it if you'd call me Jethro, especially after-hours.”

“Okay, Jethro. I think I can do that.” Tony nodded. “It may get shortened a bit. You might have noticed I have a tendency to come up with nicknames for the people I love.”

“Just not Lee, or Ro.” Gibbs, no Jethro, shuddered. “First one Shannon called me from time to time, and the other one was one of the others.”

“Jet.” Tony tried the diminutive on his tongue, and found he liked it. “Jet. It seems to suit you pretty well.” He grinned. “But only after-hours. Got it Boss.” He allowed his grin to widen and to shine a little. He could learn.

“Alright.” He was grudgingly accepting. “Go down and see Duck, make sure you're completely alright, and then come back up and get to work. Got that?”

“Yes, Boss, thank you Boss.” Tony leaned in for a quick kiss.

This was going to be fun.

And – he was definitely home.


End file.
